


From Here On

by bunnyangel



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Buddie Advent 2019, Disaster Magnet Evan Buckley, Drowning, Emotional Constipation, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Skating, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyangel/pseuds/bunnyangel
Summary: Buck goes ice skating with the Diazes.It doesn't end well.Day 11 of the I'm Your Buddie Discord 2019 Advent event. Prompt: Ice Skating
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 321
Collections: 25 Days Of Buddie





	From Here On

**Author's Note:**

> What's fluff, precious?
> 
> Thanks for the beta, [nilshki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilshki).

Buck bit his lip as he surveyed the empty ice skating rink. The reality of what he had agreed to under the might of both Diaz puppy eyes was fully settling into him, dulling some of the giddiness and excitement.

That he stood in a brand new pair of ice skates he completely hadn't needed to buy, almost an hour north of home and at a way-too-early hour on his day off was just the extra special icing on what was probably going to assuredly be crow cake.

He may have been born in snow, but he was definitely made for sand, and this woodsy little dirt pond was a far cry from either. Still, it would be fine. They were here for Christopher. He had no complaints.

Okay, maybe just one.

"I just want the record to show that I hate ice skating and this might even possibly be cruel and unusual."

Maybe a big one.

Eddie laughed. He crouched, holding skate strings steady for his son to tie. "You're already here, man. Just roll with it."

Even though he should be used to it by now, something twisted in his chest to watch Eddie just... _be a dad_ to his son. It was just... _so warm_ in the light of the tiny Diaz family. He’d never be able to get enough of it.

He forced his gaze away, taking a deep breath to calm his suddenly fluttering heart and relaxing suddenly clenched fists. It was a growing problem, though, this...crush. This _want_ where every cell in his body yearned to walk over there, to be just _that_ much closer. He was working on it. After all, he had nothing to offer Eddie except chaos and disaster.

Normally he wouldn’t be too concerned where his lovers were, because adults were capable of taking care of themselves, but none of them had ever had such precious baggage before. Christopher wasn’t an adult who could handle something like that--didn’t deserve any of it--and he and Eddie were parcel and package.

It was fine too because who hadn't he had a crush on? He worked with exceptionally good looking and extremely competent people. It would pass. Eventually. Probably. Even if the thought of it passing ached like nothing he’d felt before.

And anyway, Eddie had never indicated that this relationship was anything besides friendship, had never glanced his way twice, and he probably wouldn't. Which again, was totally fine. He was an adult, and Eddie was his best friend, and they both loved Christopher. Totally fine.

Buck took another deep breath and stepped onto the ice. His skates immediately skidded out, and he flailed, arms thrown out and limbs stiff.

He huffed, heart thudding in his throat, as Christopher's laughter rang out.

Man, the things he did for that kid.

Gingerly, he straightened. The skates wobbled but held this time. He pushed forward.

Okay. This was okay. He could do this easy. It was like riding a bike, right?

And then the ground disappeared beneath him. 

*

The surprise on Buck's face was still burned into his retinas. It was stupid, Eddie thought bitterly, because only Buck could somehow find the _one_ section of a fake rink that had been malfunctioning and go right through it.

He alternated between compressions on a chest too still and breaths on lips a tad too blue for comfort.

The attendant hovered anxiously behind him, shouting on the phone with dispatch. The few people that had arrived since exclaimed their concerns. Chris sat somewhere to his left, hiccuping through tears, screams tapered off as soon as Eddie dragged his Buck out of the water. 

But all of that was muffled under the itch of stale lake water that dripped off the end of his nose, that horrible crack and the slight give beneath his hands, and Buck's too pale, too still face.

_Leaving again, I'm so sorry._

"Fuck! Come on," he urged breathlessly. "Come on, Buck." There's a quiet, desperate litany running inside his head. Not him. _Not him, too._ He wasn't ready for this, could never be ready for this--didn't want to be.

Finally, Buck coughed, and Eddie rolled him sideways. Relief dripped through him, limbs shaking and the tightness of grief easing around his chest. He hadn't been under that long. Everything would be fine. _Buck would be fine._

"That's it, buddy," he coaxed as Buck continued to vomit water. "Get it out."

"C-Chrisss? Whr-Whr's..." Buck mumbled. "Need to...I-"

"He's fine. Shh, he's fine." Eddie guided him upright, clinically patting down the rest of his body. He peered briefly into bloodshot but thankfully not concussed eyes before wrapping careful arms around him. "Shit," he whispered, kissing the side of Buck's head. "You scared me, you little shit."

When tiny arms wrapped around them both, Eddie let go just long enough to gather his boys closer and let himself finally breathe.

*

"You should take him home."

"Shut up, Evan."

Buck winced, both at the use of his proper name and because he was familiar with that expression. Brooding Eddie was still a frequent flyer these days, even if he'd gotten less so.

The silence between them stretched until Buck dropped his gaze, fidgeting. He still hadn't really gotten the hang of dealing with this Eddie, didn't know if this was a fight he really wanted to win anyway. If they should even be fighting.

He couldn't seem to stop shaking despite it not even being cold. His chest still burned with every shallow breath, his head was _killing_ him, and the nausea wasn't fun _at all_ , but none of that was life-threatening. They hadn't even taken the ambulance here; he had, in fact, spent a good ten minutes sitting out there with a line of O2, just reacquainting himself with _now_ and not _then_.

He just wanted to curl up somewhere dark and warm and forget about how stupidly close he’d come to dying. Somehow, the Christopher-shaped ball in the plastic chair was the one thing that made it that much more unbearable. He tried again. "I mean, the nurse said it's gonna be a while." The holiday rush in the ER was no different even at this time of day. "He really can't be comfortable."

He swallowed, a pit forming in his stomach when Eddie's lips thinned and his jaw clenched. He _really_ didn’t have it in him to fight.

Honestly, he wouldn't even be here if Eddie hadn't insisted. He hadn't been under that long, and it wasn't the first time he'd dealt with cracked ribs. "It's just a check-up and x-rays, man, I--,"

"Do you know what he still dreams about, from time to time?" Eddie interrupted, eyes cutting to him. "Go on, I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count."

Buck's mouth clicked shut, because he did know. He'd been trying not to think about it, to not remember, because that way laid PTSD.

The tsunami. Drowning.

His lips twisted in something like bitterness. Trust him to traumatize Christopher yet again. He really was the worst.

"But you're also wrong."

He frowned, because what?

"He dreams about it, yeah. But he also dreams about _you_ . And _losing you_ . And today," Eddie cleared his throat, suddenly hoarse. "Today, his worst nightmare, _my_ worst nightmare came true. You weren't breathing, Buck. For two whole minutes. You weren't--” And it was Eddie who looked away.

"It's my fault you were out there in the first place." Eddie laughed lowly. "What was I even thinking? Dios."

"C'mon, Eddie." His eyes stung at blame shouldered in a way that was so entirely _Eddie_. I'm sorry, he wanted to say. It was just his luck. The other shoe was always waiting to drop. "It was just a freak accident." Unable to bear the look on Eddie’s face, he reached out tentatively, somehow surprised when Eddie let him thread their fingers together; even more surprised when those fingers squeezed and didn't let go.

Eddie exhaled roughly, the anguish on his face wiping away and replaced with a familiar blankness that hurt to see. "So no, Buck, we're not going anywhere without you, and we don't want to. _I_ don't want to. Just...just sit there and look pretty in the meantime, okay?"

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe around the sob in his throat. He didn't deserve them, but he was so incredibly grateful, because they were here with him--even though they shouldn't be, needn't be--and they weren't going anywhere.

He cleared his throat and tried a grin. It felt shaky. "You really think I'm pretty?"

" _Shut up_ , Evan." It's soft, more fond than exasperated, a warmth he wished he could just curl into and sleep.

Instead, he squeezed the hand he already held.

It was okay to let himself have just this much, right?

*

Eddie stared at the lax hand still in his, trying to breathe, to quiet all the _everything_ from today. He rubbed gently at a bruised knuckle, its owner knocked out on the guest bed with mild painkillers and general antibiotics and his son curled up beside like a limpet. He hadn't wanted to let go yet either.

The underlying confusion in Buck's eyes had hurt, as though he almost couldn't understand why they wanted him to come home with them, why they were worried about him being alone.

Grief still sat heavy in his chest, insidious fingers refusing to let go even though Buck was fine. He was _here_ . But he almost wasn't. He'd been minutes away from brain damage. He'd almost lost him. _He'd almost lost him._

_Leaving again, I'm so sorry._

He blinked back the burn in his eyes and stifled the brief flare of rage. They weren’t the same. At all. He didn’t know why he kept--

"Hey."

The low croak startled him.

"Thinking too much."

His jaw worked, but the words stuck, unable to leave the hole in his heart and travel the distance between them.

Buck studied him from beneath sleep swollen eyelids. Whatever he saw there made him tug gently at their hands until Eddie gave in. He straightened, back aching, and slid carefully into bed.

He waited for the gut-punch surge of guilt to return; for the never-ending grief to pull him back down or the ever seething anger to surface or Shannon’s ghost to hover uselessly in his regrets.

But there was just him and Christopher and Buck, together.

"That's better," Buck murmured, already relaxing back into sleep. "I'll be fine, you know..."

And just like that, the hours of tension and the last of the adrenaline drained from his body, leaving behind aching exhaustion and a muted terror he still couldn't quite let go of yet.

Eddie traced the familiar lines of that tired face with his eyes, vision blurring. A different kind of ache bloomed in his chest. Hot tears soaked into the pillow as he placed a soft, lingering kiss on battered fingers. A plea he couldn’t quite voice just yet.

Maybe he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, what he even wanted, or where they went from here on. But this, being right here and holding on right at this moment, was no choice at all.


End file.
